The Autobiography of Me
by The Girl With The Broken Smile
Summary: bit my lip as I held back tears, the let go of it to mutter, “Ihavetgotodeinfirmry”, All the while limping towards the trapdoor on the floor. I don’t remember lifting the wooden cover, or stepping down the ladder just beneath...(exerpt)
1. PreludeIntroduction

_SAN:_

_Review! And yell at me in the review! I need feedback, or else I'll keep on writing the same thing, with no improvements. Scary huh? I probably won't update until at least one person does anyway, so, there, I gave you two pieces of motivation. I think this one might actually go somewhere (gasp), I enjoy writing it a lot, although it seemed to take a truly long time for me to get around to it. It's told in a girl's Pov, her name is Sam. Well, read already!_

Disclaimer: I don't' _really _own it, sorry if I disappointed somebody.

The Autobiography of Me 

Chapter 1-Prelude/Introduction

I always thought I was more of the teacher's pet, bookworm type. You know, quiet, reserved, over-all non-socialist. That wasn't a hard conclusion for me to reach either. I loved books, I never went to school social events, and I had no friends, well, nobody I would call my true friend anyways. There were the people that sometimes invited me to birthdays, but then secretly talked about me behind my back. They were the pack-followers, going along with everybody else. So that meant if everybody was laughing at me, so would they. Everybody shunning me? So would they. I'm sure if everybody were killing me they would do so also! I won't say I didn't like it when I was invited either, nor will I say I didn't long for the included feeling everybody else felt.

I will say that I wished I wasn't there sometimes, wishing I was alone and people would stop saying absent-minded "hey"s in the hall as they passed. People poking and prodding and making me feel so self-conscious. Wishing that people would stop over-thinking thing, overcomplicating everything, and saying how hard their self-complicated life was. I will want everyone to just listen to me, and stop being so stupid. But at the same time I wished they wouldn't inspect and disapprove of all my imperfections.

The longer I wished that though, less "hey"s were directed towards me. Less people paid attention to me, or even noticed I existed enough to care about my imperfections. People stopped inviting me also, and I realized how much I was going to miss what little I had.

Small thing don't amuse small people -in my mind, small things amuse people who find the wonders of the world truly amazing. People who appreciate all that was given to us, and love the simple pleasures of life. My theory is that small people think small things amuse small people. People that think that people who are amused by small things are small people are so narrow-minded; they can't stop to marvel at the amazing occurrences. Someone who has that much time to think about small people and small saying _must _be a small person. If somebody could actually reach that conclusion they would either have a lot of time on their hands, or were daydreaming when they were actually supposed to be doing something. I wonder which….

WHACK! "SAM!"A shrewd female voice cut through my musings. I sat up straight, whacking my head on the low ceiling of my cubbyhole. It was situated about four feet from the ground, so, when I slouched after I hit my head, I fell over the edge and hit the hard wooden floor. Fortunately I caught myself with my hands, but I also created large, dark splinters from side to side of my hand. A small bundle of clothes equipped with a large pointing stick with a metal tip jumped aside as I hit, all the while making shrill noises which sounded a lot like "You incompetent fool!" and "Next time, try not to fall asleep, you clumsy buffoon!" with a muffled "Lazy excuse for a living thing" and "Useless piece of Bulgarian dung" thrown in at the appropriate places.

I bit my lip as I held back tears, the let go of it to mutter, "Ihavetgotodeinfirmry", All the while limping towards the trapdoor on the floor. I don't remember lifting the wooden cover, or stepping down the ladder just beneath, because I could hear was the laughter and many jeers of my "classmates".

Even though I required bandaged hands and I had a small concussion, I still had a detention for talking back to an authority figure, and for falling asleep in class. It was an unjust punishment! I didn't say anything but a bunch of jumbled words, and the second rule didn't even exist until the Ravenclaw head of house -Professor Kimostilibility-thought that it should be created, while I was in the infirmary. She had also been the teacher of the class I had run out of, Divination.

That's where I was now (detention that is), with Professor Kimostilibility, in her little room again, which happened to be two ladders, and 7 staircases away from my common room. I was cleaning crystal globes. Professor Kimostilibility thought it would be a grand idea to stack all the globes in a pyramid in the center of the room, so it would be more appealing to students. I mean honestly, who cares where the globes are when you pick them up? Back to the story though. So, after she created all the different layers of the pyramid on the floor away from each other, she levitated them all together, then dropped-well that's a bit harsh-_placed_ them all on top each other on the floor. But round objects ROLL, really. So, inevitably, the pyramid fell down in what seemed to be slow motion. At least three broke in their trip to the ground, covering all the others and the floor in whatever was inside them. Leaving them and the floor for me to clean, oh, yeah, and the windows, even though they were perfectly clean!

But it's not like I could argue, so I bore through it. Even though I'm sure it was against some sort of safety regulation. As I thought that, I slipped and my hand landed in the cloudy liquid and I piece of the glass that I had missed. I could only watch in horror as the visible part of my index finger and thumb turned red, and then glowed a brilliant white. I tried to pull my hand away, but it seemed stuck to the floor. The cloudy liquid slowly started to disappear as the light coming off of my fingers dimmed. I watched as slowly all the liquid disappeared, and then the stuff I had already cleaned away into my bucket leapt up out of the bucket and into my bandage. A pain grew in my hand then spread throughout me, and everything went black.

_SAN: Review…if you want the rest of this message please refer to the first Short Authors Note._


	2. A new addition

_SAN:_

_So, I'm updating, even if you haven't reviewed yet. To tell you the truth, I haven't even checked if anyone reviewed yet…I kind of just got home and felt like writing this, so, here I am. The beginning italics are a "dream" or a "hallucination", as will as anything in italics after the title and before the final author's note._

Disclaimer: You guessed it! It's not mine!

The Autobiography of Me 

Chapter 2 - A New "Addition"

_There were lights. Of all different shades and colours, swirling…and then I was flying! Soaring, above everything, my troubles creating a raging sea below me. But it didn't matter, because I was free of it all! I flew, I felt the wind flowing through my hair, then curving back around to press on upwards, running along my legs, and swirling around my fingers and toes. It stopped, and left me alone, to fall back down into the sea. I tried to scream, but no sound came. Whirlpools formed in the water as I hit and sunk, and then swam up wards. There seemed to be weights tied to my ankles, dragging me downwards as I thrashed and heaved myself upwards. It took what seemed like hours for me to break the surface. Once I arrived there I was submerged once again by ferocious waves, and tossed around in the water by the currents that resulted. I was thrust against something sharp, and felt splitting pain. I clawed upwards once more, thinking I might still have a chance of survival. I breached, just as another wave came crashing down from an enormous height, forcing me downwards once again. The force knocked the little breath I had out of me. I struggled to go upwards, but the surface was so far away. I began to black out once gain, my lungs throbbed and my back was searing. Still I fought, but it all started to seem useless. No matter how many times I tried to get out of the water, I would just be dragged downwards again._

So I stopped moving.

I was in my common room, lying down on the couch when I woke up. It was completely quiet. My head was pounding, so I rubbed it.

_A pain grew in my hand then spread throughout me…_

I gasped then lunged forward to check my hand. I almost fainted again when I touched my skin and it fell off…then I realized it was my bandage. I started laughing at myself, the sound echoing throughout the oversized room, and scaring me into looking back at my hand. My entire index finger and a triangular area beneath it were a silver white colour. As I looked closer I realized that I could see through them when I looked close enough. The strangest thing was that there was nothing inside my finger, no bones, no veins, nothing, and yet I could still move it regularly.

"Oh no, ohnoohnoohno! This isn't real!" I cried to myself as I started running to my room, or more specifically, the bathroom. Maybe it could wash off! I ran up the stairs, then ran down again as I recognized that they were the boys stairs. I ran up the proper stairs, and swung the door open of my room, and then violently switched then light on. I then proceed to sprint into the bathroom and slam the door shut. I ran my hand under the tap and rubbed it vigorously for several minutes, and then I just broke down and cried. The yells of my woken-up roommates didn't help, and I began to sob even louder.

The shrieking ceased eventually, the light on the other side of the door turned off. Somebody started snoring. I just sat on the floor of the bathroom, the cold tiles numbing the feeling in my butt and legs. And I thought. About me, even though it sounds selfish. I was alone, and I was stuck with a transparent finger! My bandage seemed to have blocked my finger from the view of whoever had brought me to the common room, because then I would probably be in the infirmary, or in the headmaster's office. So, so far I was the only one who new about my new "addition". And what a curious addition it was. It didn't seem to do anything, and my finger felt perfectly healthy.

I knew that whatever had happened to me was a result of the combining of my blood and the liquid inside the crystal globes. That was obvious because of the small incision in my skin right below my infected finger. The thing that confused me the most was that the liquid from inside my bucket had _flown _out and into my finger. Things don't just _fly _for no reason. Especially inanimate things. There must have been some sort of attracting force that was created when the liquid went into my finger, because before it did, it could put my hand directly over the bucket and nothing would move.

I proceeded to analyze my finger, prodding and poking, putting it under hot and cold running water, even hitting it no the wall, but all that succeeded in doing was making my fingers hurt. It seemed that nothing could penetrate my finger, although there was one thing I hadn't tried. I reached in the cupboard beneath the sink, and moved my hand around a little. Eventually something small and sharp poked my pinky. I took out the needle, and wiped the blood on a piece of toilet paper. Taking the needle, I winced and pointed it towards my translucent finger. Being gentle, I poked it. Nothing happened. I tried again, this time harder. Still nothing. The skin just repelled the needle, like a blunt object pushing on a rubber band. So that eliminates the possibility of draining my finger of the strange liquid, although that probably wasn't the greatest idea in the first place.

I had gone to the library, and now was sitting at one of the mahogany table, books stacked around me. My special finger was wrapped up so that it was not visible, but just to be sure I always kept it out of the view from whomever else may be in the library at 8 in the morning. Surprisingly to me, that was not a lot of people.

I had chosen the table closest to the bookshelves and furthest from the door. This also happened to be the same table that was beside a south-facing window. From where I was sitting I could see from the Slytherin dormitories, to the astrology tower, to the quidditch pitch. That was the main reason that I picked this table as my favorite. It offered a wonderful view of some of the more "pretty" parts of Hogwarts. Sure, some tables have windows that face into the Forbidden Forest, and others that face into the lake; and I find both of those places terribly frightening.

I glanced out my window now, and watched as a group of people walk across the grounds towards the quidditch pitch. They all wore scarlet robes and were carrying brooms. Two carried clubs, and one a suitcase-like box. It wasn't difficult to figure out that these people were the Griffindor quidditch team. As they walked onto the pitch, they were met by another group of people. These people were likewise equipped, but were wearing black and green robes. I always found it strange that Slytherin's Quidditch robes were black and green, seeing as their house colours are green and silver. That didn't matter though; all that mattered was that they were the Slytherin team. There must have been a double booking of sorts, because the captains of both teams were yelling at each other ferociously. I silently prayed for whomever had done the booking for the pitch. Gryffindor and Slytherin had a very long dispute going on between them that originates from the very founders of Hogwarts. Salazar Slytherin had an argument with the other houses over the type of student that they should allow into Hogwarts, and this lead to a general dislike of Slytherin house from all of the other houses, what magnified the battle between Slytherins an Gryffindors I'm not quite sure.

Oh damn, I had gotten distracted again. The Slytherin team had started to advance towards the Gryffindor team. One of the Slytherin's I'm not sure which one, produced a wand form his pocket and pointed it at the captain of the Gryfindor team, Camden McCarty. The rest of the Gryfindor team quickly tackled the attacker. The brawl continued for a little while before a professor, I think professor Biul, the herbology teacher. They were separated, a solution formed, and both teams practiced, only using half a pitch each. It seemed like a very easily reached conclusion to their problem, but who was I to judge? I just have trouble figuring out why Camden and Derek (the Slytherin Captain) had to always pick a fight with each other whenever some small argument comes up. I also cannot seem to figure out why them, of all people, are social-powerhouses of the school. Only in fourth year, the both of them were envied by most of the school, disgusting from my point of view.

_A very angry Derek Hall knelt in front of an alter, a skull hovering above the house behind the alter. The alter itself was adorned with pictures of a family, a little girl of seven, two boys of around fourteen and seventeen, and two parents. They were staring, unmoving, smiling and happy. A tear rolls down his cheek as he stairs back with determination at the people in the photograph. He breaks down, pulls up sleeve, revealing a slender knife strapped to his arm. His removes the knife, a mark of a snake and skull appearing where the knife was placed before. He rolls down his sleeve, and looks back at the pictures, holding the knife with both shaking hands. His whispers something under his breath, and a shocked expression appears on his face. Looking down, he sees his hand still wrapped around the knife that is now embedded in his chest. Blood started to bubble out of the wound, and Derek collapses. As he lies down, finally at rest, a small smile appears on his lips, and his body becomes lifeless. _

"NO!"I collapse n my chair from my position looking out the window. I slouch with my quavering hands enveloping my head. Even though I can no longer see them, all of the people outside and on the quidditch pitch had all turned and were looking directly at my window. Still shuddering, a take my books and pile them up in front of me in such a way so that I would not be visible. It had been so real. I could see the anguish that had taken over his face, the blood that had flown from the wound, and the gruesome mark that had appeared over the house.

I knew I could not do any more researching today, so I simply hid my self in my books and wept silently, waiting for the terrible seen to disappear from my mind.

_SAN:Well…didn't get as much information as I hoped to get into this chapter, but I still enjoyed it. Review please!_


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